An Ace of Hearts in The Joker's Hand.

Who would say a jester without his hat,

is any less of a jester than that

who flaunts his 'guise on royalty's court,

and takes pride in the laughter his fool's act brought,

upon the stubborn lips of merciless kings,

with nought for love but diamond rings,

oh how they wish they understood the lover's mime,

to feel for themselves the yearning cries

of a heart bound solely to one face in a crowd,

how amongst a thousand voices equally loud,

that one stands out like siren's song.

Though even the jester knows its wrong,

he's heard how the tongue spins wondrous lies,

and how, ignoring all the warning signs,

you're led to believe it all is truth,

you just want to...have to believe its truth,

but how all our views of love are wrong,

'cause that melody is still siren song,

just spider's webs weaved into words,

twisting all you think you heard,

its the puppet show lust loves to play,

to keep our eyes and make us slaves,

on love's dice all the faces are gone,

like the face of love in life's favourite con,

and the game won't end until someone wins,

now the king's already lost to sin,

and the jester's jokes won't save them now,

still laughter spills but  the joke's turned sour,

and all the masks are turned his way,

holding their ears for fear of what he'll say,

no proof that the masks will ever fall,

or if they're even masks at all,

this jester knows of life's cruel dance,

since love is one more


Jester's Prank


The End

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